The Golden Dragon's Hoard

2 - 5

“If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?”
—Jodi Picoolt, Nineteen Minutes

Hey guys! I have officially finished this books and edited almost everything. I absolutely love how it ends and, not to spoil anything, I won't say much, but it's so sweet.
I'm really glad I decided to focus on family/platonic dynamics (for now), especially in a fantasy world. I don't think that gets explored enough.

Part Two - Chapter Five
"The Dragon's Sunlit Witch"

Marigold agrees without pushing to know what the purpose of their trip is for.

She goes over the inventory with Ozzy, gets shown the routine by Ras, and discusses the little things she has to look out for with the big dragon during their shared lunch break. With Stray, she’s shown the best hiding spots, and they spend the whole time laughing to themselves at his old perch next to the herb’s shelf.

Given a six day notice, the witch also prepares her familiar to watch their own shop. Blaise’s used to doing it, just not alone, but everyone agrees that it’ll probably go smoothly.

At the very least, they’re sure the shops will at least be standing when they return.

At the very most, the cookies are going to be edible, albeit a little burnt.

-——-——-

Five days left and Stray spends the time talking over his worries with his dad.

Athanasius isn’t the best with emotions, or conversation, but he’s good at picking apart the youngling’s thoughts and getting to the real issue. He asks the right questions and never leaves his son without comfort.

They talk more about what happened to him with his old abusers.

It feels nice to get it off his chest.

He didn’t notice how much it weighed him down to hold onto all of that alone until there was someone else to help hold it up.

It’s a little scary to think that his witch has more to hold on their shoulders than he can even imagine. They remember it all, he’s just left with the scraps but even those hurt. What kind of pain are they holding onto?

What have they had to deal with all alone?

-——-——-

They’re back in front of the window, sunshine pouring over them.

It stings his eyes, the warmth fuzzy, not quite real. In the memory, he’s too busy trying to memorize what the witch looks like more than he is staring at the sky.

In the dream, though, their face is always blurry.

The clouds are better to look at, now, when everything feels so tilted to the side. It’s better than seeing an old friend he can’t remember.

It’s better than feeling a love he doesn’t understand—that, though, never really can be ignored. It’s omnipresent, sticking to his heart like spilled honey, golden and sweet. If he cannot remember anything else, he at least will always have this love.

His voidwalker is looking at him, their positions flipped.

Stray doesn’t know what they see, what they make of him.

Is he still that small, broken dragon locked into a cage? Is he the young boy they had to save from open wounds and an empty stomach, or is he how he is now? Cheeks full and hair golden, scars fading with all the years that have passed by?